All the Perfumes of Arabia
by JulesDPM
Summary: When a rescue does not go well, the foundations of International Rescue are shaken as one brother looks for a way out.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: Many thanks to my beta reader who was especially helpful with the American speech.

"Scott! Can you still hear me? I need help, here!" John was trying to keep calm but there was clear panic in his voice. Blood was still oozing between his fingers and he pressed even harder. "Gordon! How're you doing?"

TBTBTBTBTBTTB

The beautiful morning on a sun-drenched Tracy Island gave no warning of the traumas of the day to come. John had recently come off his tour on Thunderbird 5 and was sitting on the swimming pool edge with his feet in the water, feeling the warmth of the sun on his back. The majority of the time he wasn't affected by the weather; rain or shine didn't change his temperament as it did some people. He was used to the excitement of looking into dark skies at far off twinkling constellations so the only time weather bothered him was when he was on Earth looking up and there were clouds to spoil the view.

However, during the first couple of days back on Tracy Island, after a month in space, he couldn't help but become aware of certain sensations. The sun warmed his bones. In space the sun was something to be feared if you got too close but on Earth it could be enjoyed. The water lapping against his bare toes and ankles was pleasurable. In Thunderbird 5 water was a precious commodity and enjoying a whole pool's worth on Earth seemed decadent. The sound of the breeze in the trees and his brothers shouting to one another was something to be relished. In space lives depended on him concentrating on the sounds of the feeds of chatter from around the world and, in doing so, identifying trouble. Here, someone else would inform him of trouble and he could relax.

In the pool Gordon was powering back and forth. Gravity, buoyancy, action and reaction forces were all playing their part in a way they didn't in space. But despite his head being full of science, John was not so green that he didn't pull his feet out of the water when Gordon swam up to him. He had ended up fully dressed in the pool enough times thanks to the water baby.

"Come for a swim," said Gordon, and John thought how Gordon always looked most happy when surrounded by water.

"Maybe in a while. Do you still time your lengths?"

"Rarely; it's just for fun these days. Seriously, it's lovely in here. Grab some trunks!" Gordon propelled himself backwards from the pool wall and went beneath the water executing an elegant backward flip as he did. Simultaneously the emergency klaxon went off to alert the inhabitants of the island to a rescue. John sighed and got to his feet. A bemused looking Gordon popped his head out of the water and John beckoned to him.

"Come on, kid, time to get to work. Thunderbirds are go!"

TBTBTBTBTBTBT

 _In the last couple of days life has gone from the sublime to the ridiculous_ thought John as he stood knee deep in snow. Not long ago he'd been in the sterile world of space wearing his uniform and this had been followed by his shorts and t-shirt pool-side on Tracy Island. Now he was in his cold-weather gear in a frozen hell hole. Life was never stagnant in International Rescue, that was for sure.

They had been called to a village on the Italian/Swiss border where there had been an avalanche. For as long as anyone could remember the village at the base of a mountain had never been touched by the avalanches that occasionally tumbled down the mountain but always stopped well short of the village outskirts. A once in 500 year event had sent an avalanche so large and fast that it had enveloped the whole inhabited area, crushing and burying buildings and the people within them.

There was still hope for some survivors and International Rescue had been asked by the local agencies to help out. They didn't need asking twice.

John was standing next to the Snow Loader, a Thunderbird 2 pod vehicle that was bright orange and so more easily seen in the blizzard conditions it was often used in. It had a big snow plough type of attachment on the front and also a backhoe for scooping piles of snow out of the way. There were several places around the vehicle where de-icing liquid could be pumped out from and there was the capacity to spread a salt/grit mix on the road behind it. There was also a well-insulated and heated cabin for the operator to sit in without a heavy coat or gloves, enabling them to use the controls with more dexterity.

It was Virgil who was toasty warm at this point and John who was dealing with a biting wind, although the sky was clear blue and the sun had a bit of warmth. The Snow Loader was approaching a half-buried and collapsed house, with Virgil hoping to clear an access to search the interior. Experience had taught International Rescue that all sorts of things could be buried in the snow near a residential structure, such as a swimming pool or landscaping feature, which could de-stablise or swallow up a heavy, tracked vehicle. John was just in front of the Snow Loader, keeping an eye out for trouble, instructing Virgil to move forward when he felt it was safe.

Virgil was alert to what his brother was doing and when John raised his hand and shouted "Stop!" into his wrist comm, the Snow Loader was brought to an immediate halt and Virgil turned off the engine. John was digging at the snow in front of it as Virgil swung down from the cabin, pulling on his jacket.

"What is it?" he asked John.

"Hang on, I just caught a glimpse of something odd. There's a bit of a hole here and now that it's quiet I think I can hear whimpering." John carefully moved some more snow to the side. "Oh, it's a dog kennel, I think."

Virgil sighed. He was well aware that their priorities did not include family pets while there were people still unaccounted for but he did not relish the idea of running the dog over, either. Then John became agitated.

"Good grief!" He was bending right down into the hole now and pulled something out but it wasn't a dog, it was toddler, a little girl of about two or three. John started opening his coat. "Looks like the kid crawled into the kennel when the avalanche hit. It was her whimpering. She was hugging the dog and its body heat must have kept her warm. I'm not sure the dog survived, though." John had undone his jacket enough to be able to pull the girl inside and next to his own warm torso.

"Get going to where the emergency services are parked," instructed Virgil. "I'll tell Scott to make sure someone is there to receive her."

Back on Tracy Island John would have laughed in the face of Virgil giving him an order but it was a different situation on a rescue. Instead, zipping his jacket up, he grinned at Virgil as he started off through the snow.

"Best job ever!" he shouted over his shoulder cheerfully, as he waded towards the medical vehicles. Virgil couldn't help but smile, also, as he contacted Scott.

If only John could have held on to his thought during that trials that followed.


	2. Chapter 2

The hours continued as International Rescue and the other emergency services worked tirelessly to bring people to safety. There were triumphs and there was adversity, heroic saves and missed opportunities. These were the sort of rescues that the brothers found most tiring. Instead of a quick, dramatic show of their technology and bravery which speedily ended a dangerous situation, they had to struggle for a long time, seeing as many dead bodies as they did live ones.

The day changed to night and the Alpine peaks of the Bernina and Sena, which had looked so beautiful in the day, turned menacing during the dusk and then disappeared completely from view during the evening. Snow had started to fall heavily and the temperature had dipped considerably.

John and Gordon were working under a mobile floodlight which lit up their search area as clear as day. John was scanning the building next to them using a handheld thermal imager to detect warm, live bodies inside what was left of the half collapsed structure which creaked and groaned.

"I'm glad to report," said John, "that we don't have to go in there. I'm getting no readings at all."

Gordon heaved a twisted, metal noticeboard out of the snow. "Well, my language skills might not be up to much but I'm pretty sure it says this was a library which doesn't open on Mondays so it was probably empty."

"Good news," replied John.

"I'm not happy about how hard it's snowing," said Gordon, wearily wiping the back of his gloved hand across his forehead. "Some of these buildings are only propped up through sheer luck. The added weight of extra snow is going to increase the likelihood of them collapsing further, possibly onto –"

Gordon's sentence was abruptly cut short as the library, as if to prove his point, decided to choose that moment to fall down completely, sending debris flying and a wave of snow that knocked both Gordon and John off their feet. As John hit the ground he heard a cry of pain from his brother. As the aftermath settled, John brushed the snow from his face, struggled to sit up and looked around for Gordon. He saw him a few feet away, flat on his back, also rubbing snow out of his eyes. Both John and Gordon were then drawn to look at Gordon's left thigh where, sticking out from it, was a triangular piece of metal, about a foot long.

For a moment, they both looked at the piece of metal in amazement. Then, seemingly in a daze, Gordon sat up and reached towards the red painted object. John could see what he was going to do.

"No!" he shouted, and struggled to get to Gordon but the deep snow slowed him and Gordon had already yanked the metal free of his thigh and tossed it to one side before John could reach him. Gordon then watched in fascination as blood started to rhythmically pump out of the wound.

John threw himself at Gordon and clamped both hands down on the injury, pressing hard. He couldn't stop himself from shouting.

"You stupid idiot! What the hell did you do that for? You know better than to pull something out like that before the medics get here. I know you know that. We went on the same stupid medical course!"

Gordon was looking stunned and spoke slowly. "Sorry, it's just…it was wrong. It shouldn't have been there."

John lifted his right hand to tap his wrist comm into life. The blood immediately started gushing out of the wound again so he clamped his palm back down on top of the other hand. He hoped Scott would be able to hear him shout as there was no way he was lifting his left wrist towards his mouth and risking more blood loss from Gordon.

"Scott, do you copy?"

A faint reply came. "What's happening, John?"

"Gordon's down. He needs hospital treatment, immediately! Hospital treatment, immediately! I need an ambulance."

"FAB." was Scott's only reply and John was relieved that Scott was going to get the paramedics on the way before giving him the third degree. He looked down at Gordon. John's anger was the way he was releasing the distress he was feeling.

"What made you do that?!"

"I don't know," said Gordon, trying to sit up.

"Don't move! Gordon, I said stop wriggling! I swear to God if you don't lie still I will punch your lights out so you can't move."

Gordon stopped moving. Scott voice could now be heard more clearly from the wrist comm.

"John? Medics are on their way to your location. What's happened to Gordon?"

"He's got an injury to what I think is his femoral artery and the kid's bleeding out."

"I am not bleeding out and I am not a kid," interjected Gordon somewhat tartly from his snow mattress.

"Well, for God's sake put some pressure on the wound!" This came from Scott. John took a deep breath and spoke between gritted teeth.

"I have both hands on the wound but I'm not sure it's enough."

"Well, hang on in there. Help's on its way."

John looked down at his hands. Blood was still seeping out. He pressed the heels of his palms down a bit harder and Gordon gave a little yelp of pain. John's initial anger was rapidly dissipating.

"I'm sorry," he said to Gordon, speaking more calmly now.

"S'okay", came the muttered reply. He sounded a bit slurred. John looked at Gordon's face which was usually rather pasty next to his shock of ginger hair but which now looked positively ashen beneath his freckles. Gordon continued. "Can't you just patch it up so we can get on with the rescue?"

"Gord, you're gonna need an operation to patch this up. The rescue is over for you. At least you're going somewhere warm for a bit."

Gordon didn't reply and closed his eyes. John returned his gaze to his hands, well lit up under the bright floodlight. The blood flow was slow, now, but some was still running down Gordon's uniform and onto the pristine white snow where it permeated through the ice crystals, fanning out in a delicate pattern. It kept John transfixed for a few moments before he realised that time was passing with no sign of help.

"Scott! Can you still hear me? I need help, here!" John was trying to keep calm but there was clear panic in his voice. Blood was still oozing between his fingers and he pressed even harder. "Gordon! How're you doing?"

Gordon's eyes flickered open. "Okay. Cold."

John had taken his gloves off to operate the handheld imager. He wondered if the gloves were also pressed onto the wound whether it would help staunch the blood but he didn't dare move to reach for them. At least Gordon had gloves and a hat on but he was starting to shake.

"I know. Won't be long now. Hey, I can see the medics."

John felt both relief and disappointment as he realised there was only one paramedic coming towards him.

"What has happened?" the guy asked in heavily accented English as he dropped to his knees besides Gordon. John explained the accident and injury.

"I can't risk moving my hands so we're going to need more than the two of us to get him to the ambulance."

"My colleague will be here soon with a stretcher. Stay as you are and I will put in a drip." Within a minute Gordon had intravenous fluids and an oxygen mask and was being wrapped in an emergency foil blanket. Then the paramedic began taking various blood pressure and temperature measurements as another medic came on the scene. The two medics had a brief discussion and examined the wound, after which they got John to replace his hands on it while they eased Gordon onto the stretcher.

John was unhappy that the scene was not playing out as he'd imagined in his head. By now he had presumed Gordon would have been swamped with help, surrounded by medical personal. Some sort of pressure dressing would have been applied to Gordon's injury and John would have been able to step back and help coordinate things with Scott. Where was Scott, anyway? Basically, it seemed like there just weren't enough people to go around and that included both in the emergency services and International Rescue.

The medics stood up, indicating to John that he should do the same, as they lifted the stretcher. The party then stumbled through the deep snow towards the emergency vehicles, the light around them fading and brightening as they moved between spotlights. John concentrated on the positioning of his hands while trying to ignore Gordon's grunts of pain every time the stretcher was jolted.

Finally, the stretcher was eased into an ambulance. John, hands still in place, ducked in as well and was given a seat beside Gordon as one of the paramedics bustled around hooking Gordon up to various machines.

Scott hopped lightly on board. "How're you doing, Gord?" Gordon's eyes opened slowly.

"I'm okay. Just a bit cold."

Scott gave Gordon a short appraising look and then smiled at him. "Good man. I'll catch up with you at the hospital." He patted Gordon briefly on the shoulder, nodded at John and was gone again.

The paramedic adjusted John's hands slightly and then also left the ambulance and started to close the back doors.

"Hang on!" protested John. "Isn't one of you guys riding in the back?"

"No people," was the succinct reply as the door slammed shut. The engine started and they were off.

The trip to the hospital did not take long due to the combined effects of snow ploughs and Virgil having previously utilised Thunderbird Two's jets to clear the main roads. To John, however, the journey felt like it lasted several hours. Gordon might now be in a high tech environment but what exactly was John to do if one of the monitors started giving out an alarm? He knew what they all did but he didn't have enough hands to hold the wound and adjust drips.

He could only concentrate on looking down at Gordon and trying to get him to talk but that was becoming fruitless as Gordon seemed both irritated and confused and tried to move too much if John spoke to him. John had never felt so helpless. He literally had his brother's life in his hands and he was terrified. None of the brothers ever admitted to being terrified during a rescue and in admitting it to himself it made him feel weak and useless. How the hell had the day started to go downhill so fast? Why wasn't he out rescuing people instead of becoming Gordon's primary healthcare provider? He'd had plenty of medical training but he was beginning to realise that, although he had enough knowledge to know what could go wrong, he didn't know enough about what happened after a traumatic injury. Usually his job was to get a person to an ambulance and then go back to the danger zone without reflecting on the consequences. Right now he was looking down at one of the people he loved most in the world and trying to keep him alive.

By the time they arrived at the nearest emergency department John felt he was in a trance. Gordon was silent and shivering, only occasionally muttering about feeling cold. As the back doors to the ambulance were pulled open, several medical personnel appeared but no one seemed keen to relieve John of his job. Instead, he found himself jogging beside the trolley that carried Gordon to a waiting operating theatre. Finally, John's hands were prised away and Gordon was wheeled through a set of double doors with enough notices on them to give John a clear indication that he was not welcome to step through them.

He didn't know how long he stood staring at the doors. The corridor around him was silent. Eventually he stumbled back a few steps looking for some seating. There was none and he didn't want to stray too far so he found a tall waste bin with a metal lid and perched on that, still looking towards the doors until he was roused from his reverie by a voice.

"How is he?"

John turned to see Scott and tried to co-ordinate his mouth to reply. "I don't know, I don't… They took him that way and…I don't know." John couldn't work out why Scott's face was showing shock.

"Is all that Gordon's?" asked Scott, gesturing at John's uniform.

John slowly looked down at himself and the sight and smell of his own self made him want to vomit. His uniform and hands were covered in blood which was now drying and crusting. He lifted his hands to stare at them and spoke quietly.

" 'Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.' "

Scott was now looking seriously concerned. "What did you say? Look, we need to get you cleaned up and then get an update on Gordon."

"I didn't tell them his blood type!" replied John, panicked for a moment.

"Alan's dealing with all that. He'll let us know what's happening while we're in the washroom. I saw one down here."

Scott steered John down the corridor and into an empty men's washroom. He indicated the soap and hand basin but John couldn't seem to manage at first and eventually Scott was helping him to scrub and rub with paper towels in the same way the two of them had helped clean up Gordon and Alan before dinner when they were toddlers. Scott used a paper towel to dab at John's face but John didn't want to look in the mirror, afraid that the reflection would show what he was feeling inside.

Scott made him pull off his outer uniform and, beneath, his clothes were slightly less gruesome to look at. When Scott was satisfied with John's appearance they left the washroom and headed down the corridor away from the operating theatre. Scott managed to track down a nurse who was very busy but eventually found out that Gordon was alive and almost out of surgery.

"That's great, thank you," replied Scott. He turned to John. "Look, keep in touch with Al. He's got a line to the hospital too. Virgil's on his way back to base with Two and I need to head off as well. One of us will be back with clothes for you, okay? And I think Dad and Grandma are on the way. Try to get some food in the meantime."

Scott turned to leave but was prevented by John reaching out and grabbing his arm in an iron grip.

"No!"

"What?"

"No, I'll take One back to base, you stay here with Gordon."

"Don't be ridiculous-" started Scott, but John interrupted him.

"I want to go home and get cleaned up. You should stay here. I can fly One."

"You don't look in a fit state to fly anything, right now," noted Scott. John's demeanour abruptly changed and his expression was resolute.

"As Field Commander, you should stay here. You know I can pilot One without any problems and, anyway, I look a mess. You stay here and co-ordinate."

"I'm not sure I trust you-"

"With your precious Thunderbird? Suck it up – decision's made." And with that, John strode off, his mind firmly fixed on getting out of the hospital and as far away as he could in the shortest time and not contemplating the angry big brother he had left behind.


	3. Chapter 3

"You can't keep a good man down, or Gordon either!" said Virgil chirpily two days later over breakfast in the kitchen on Tracy Island.

It was indeed the case. After his operation, Gordon had rallied quickly and was demanding to be allowed to go home within 24 hours. Unfortunately for him, the doctors insisted he stay a few days longer but the news had reached Tracy Island that Gordon would be returning on Friday, in two days' time.

Virgil's pathetic attempt at a joke had a mercifully small audience as the only other person at the table was John who had a mouth full of granola and merely grunted in reply.

The past couple of days had seen many coming and goings to and from the island as various members of the family had visited Gordon or remained behind to prepare the Thunderbirds for the next rescue. The only person who had stayed put was John. Since bringing back Thunderbird One he had been assiduously tending to the 'birds and finding plenty of other jobs to do.

Virgil sipped his coffee. "You going to visit Gord today?" he asked John.

"Nope. I've got enough to do to prepare for going back onto Five."

"Oh right," replied Virgil, "Have you arranged for Alan to stay on a day longer so you can see Gordon when he's back, then?"

"Nope. Alan and I are swapping on Thursday evening as usual."

"But then it'll be another month before you see Gordon. I think he's quite keen to see you in person so he can thank you for saving his life."

John stood up, grabbed his still half full cereal bowl and headed for the dishwasher, clearly irritated. "I would hope that it was implied that he was grateful I saved his sorry ass. I really don't think we need to have the actual conversation. I've got better things to do, quite frankly."

With that he dumped the half-filled bowl on top of the dishwasher figuring someone else would sort it out and left the kitchen. Virgil frowned in confusion. His brother had not been fun to be around the last couple of days. Sometimes he really had no idea what was going on in John's head.

TBTBTB

What was going on in John's head? John, himself, had no idea, he just knew that whatever it was, it wasn't good.

He understood that, after a long and difficult rescue, he and his brothers would sometimes feel off-kilter for a few hours. Some danger zones were mentally harder to leave behind than others but there was much to do cleaning up the Thunderbirds and that combined with a few beers usually worked to get them back on track again.

But John was having trouble shaking off what had happened. He was inordinately glad that Gordon was on the mend but he had no desire whatsoever to revisit the hospital. The thought of being back in those corridors sent a cold shiver through him. Gordon's recovery no longer depended on him and he wanted to keep away.

He knew he was just unsettled by the events but he was taking longer than he expected to get over it. Perhaps the calm routine of Thunderbird Five would help? It was certainly the one place where he felt utterly in control. Maybe that's what he needed and then after a month in space he would feel balanced. He also knew that Alan was very keen to see Gordon so he decided to arrange to swap with Alan a day early.

A couple of weeks into John's tour of duty on Five he realised that, however much he tried to pretend otherwise, the rescue was still haunting him like a wraith constantly at his shoulder. Regularly during the day thoughts of the rescue would come unbidden into his mind and, with them, feelings of fear.

John put his scientific mind to work and began searching the Internet to find some answers as to why he was feeling so out of sorts, but after a couple of days he realised he was getting nowhere. He remembered why he rarely surfed for ailments online when he discovered that his symptoms could be anything from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder to an underactive thyroid.

So then he decided to find a solution to the, as yet, unidentified problem. Tricky but not impossible. He put the science aside and went with what he felt he needed. He wasn't used to feeling restless and dissatisfied with his life and so he cast his virtual net wide.

By three weeks into his time on Thunderbird Five he had started to formulate a plan. It was extreme, he would be the first to admit it, but practicalities aside it was the only thing that really felt right and it was the first time he had felt excited and optimistic since rescuing the young girl from the dog kennel.

Although on Thunderbird Five he was effectively always on duty, it didn't mean he couldn't have down time and one day, when he knew everyone on Tracy Island would be eating dinner, he changed out of his uniform and into a casual shirt and shorts. He sat himself in front of the non-International Rescue vid-phone and keyed in the number for family friends May and Grant.

May was just a few years older than Scott and had grown up on the farm that was the nearest neighbour to the Tracy's property in Kansas. She had been a bit of big sister to the brothers and had been a welcome extra female figure visiting the house of the motherless boys. There were rumours that, at one point, Scott had tried to date her but what had happened between them stayed between them.

Despite her closeness to the Tracy boys, May's aspirations for life had been very different from theirs. Although intelligent, hard-working and personable, she had neither the opportunity nor inclination to go to college. Instead she had left high school and gone precisely nowhere, preferring instead to learn how to work her father's farm alongside him.

When she fell in love it had been with Grant, a young man who she had met at a local Young Farmers' social. Joy and grief had hit her simultaneously when her father had died of a heart attack two days after her and Grant's wedding. Her mother had moved in with her sister and asked May and Grant to take over the running of the farm.

So May never left her childhood home and she was very content with that. While she was a hands-on farmer at the start of their marriage, she also desperately wanted to be a mother. Children swiftly followed and she and Grant were parents to three boys and May was now pregnant with a girl.

The Tracys had kept in touch with May and Grant, despite now all living a long way from Kansas. May and Grant's farm was a great place to escape to for a short vacation and they always received a good welcome and had made a solid friend out of Grant. May's sons Matty, Pete and Sam loved to get visits from their "uncles" and the Tracy brothers spoiled their little "nephews" rotten.

In Thunderbird Five, John fixed a pleasant expression to his face as he waited for the vid-phone call to be answered. He ran his fingers through his hair to tidy it. Grant's face appeared on the screen.

"Hey John, how's it going? Good to see you!"

"Hi there, you're looking well. Look, I'll come straight to the point. I've got a big favour to ask you…."


	4. Chapter 4

When the sofa deposited John and Scott back into the Tracy Island lounge from Thunderbird Three's silo, Gordon stepped forward and enveloped John in a bear hug.

"Of all my big brothers you're my favourite! Thanks for keeping me in one piece, bro."

John shook him off and scowled. "It was nothing. Just doing my job."

"It was more than that!" insisted Gordon, "Look, we're having dinner in your honour. I've been to the mainland and got that lobster you like and Grandma's been baking pies."

"Not hungry," retorted John who then picked up his travel bag and marched smartly out of the lounge.

"Dammit, I hoped he'd have cheered up by now," said Virgil, as Gordon just stood looking shocked.

Scott rose to his feet. "What do you mean?"

"He was like this when Gordon was in the hospital: grumpy and hard to talk to. I'd kinda hoped that a month in Five would have perked him up. Shame, I wanted to get him to help me with some calculations down in the hangar."

"What was all that about?" asked Gordon.

"He's probably just embarrassed we want to make a fuss," reasoned Scott. "He'll be fine in a couple of days."

TBTBTBTB

John had been wondering about taking a few days back at the Island before he spoke to his father about his plans but seeing Gordon again had somehow made his resolve to change things much firmer. So the next morning he headed for the lounge, taking a few deep breaths to prepare himself.

Jeff was at his desk, tapping keys, peering at his monitor and searching through the papers placed to one side when John came into the lounge and stood in front of him.

"Yes, John," he said, without looking up. He had never had trouble identifying his sons, even when they were young. They hadn't been able to blame each other for their misdemeanours as Jeff had known which one was which even if the only glimpse he'd got was of a trailing arm as its owner disappeared around a corner. The view of the legs by his computer screen were more than enough to work out which of his offspring it was.

"Father, you're going to need to get a replacement."

"Sure, son, what for?" Jeff still didn't raise his eyes from his work.

"For me," stated John.

"Say again?"

"You need to get a replacement for me."

Finally, Jeff looked up and into the impassive face of John. He frowned in confusion, took off his reading glasses and tossed them down on the desk as he gestured that John should sit in the chair in front of him. John duly sat and Jeff asked another question.

"In what way do you need replacing?"

"In the International Rescue way. I want to leave International Rescue."

Jeff was even more puzzled now. John rarely wasted words and was being as succinct as Jeff would expect from him but at that moment it wasn't helpful.

"You want to leave…..to do what exactly?"

"To be a farmer."

Jeff's face creased into a smile and he gave that low, gravelly chuckle, the one that Penny said she loved, and that bore evidence to years of whiskey drinking and cigar smoking in the wee, small hours.

"A farmer. What sort of farmer?"

"Well, it depends on where I set up, of course," replied John, who apparently now having found his voice intended to give more detailed information. "I mean, if I go back to Kansas then arable is the obvious choice, wheat probably. If I wanted sheep I could always get some advice from Lady Penelope but I'm thinking cattle might be an interesting way to go. I'm not so sure about beef, though. The advances in technology in dairy farming, particularly robotic milking, are fascinating so I'm considering that. I've spoken to May and Grant and they said that they're happy to have me live with them for a while to show me the ropes so I can put some of the theory I've learnt into practice."

John looked animated now but Jeff was more bemused than ever. He decided to go at things from a different angle.

"Why do you want to leave International Rescue?"

John seemed surprised at the question which had interrupted his flow about farming. "Well, you've always told us that it wasn't a job for life and we could leave when we wanted without argument so I suppose I'm done."

All the previous amusement left Jeff's face and he leaned forwards on his desk, grasping his hands together, anger starting to show in his body language.

"You're done? International Rescue isn't a toy that you can toss to one side when you're bored of it."

John was already holding up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Wrong choice of words, I didn't mean it like that. I guess what I meant was, I think International Rescue is done with me."

"So you want out?"

"Yes, I do. Look I don't intend to leave you in the lurch. I know it will take time to find someone to replace me and train them up so I'm proposing that I still do my monthly rotation on Thunderbird Five until you're set but during my months Earth-side I intend to be working for May and Grant. Of course, I'll always be available for Alan if he needs advice on Five, even after I've fully left."

Jeff sat back and his chair gave a creak. "It sounds like you've thought this all through."

Now it was John's turn to look puzzled. "Of course I have. You taught us never to come to you with an idea unless we had examined it from all angles."

"I guess I did. So when do you want to start all this?"

"Right away."

"Right away as in this month?"

"Right away as in tomorrow," replied John, firmly. "I intend to fly to May's place tomorrow."

"Do you?" said Jeff, reaching for his glasses and putting them back on and returning to his work. "Then you'd best start packing, hadn't you?"


	5. Chapter 5

After dinner the next evening, a dinner from which John was conspicuously missing due to having flown away from the island earlier that day, Scott, Virgil and Gordon met in the games room. However, the pool table was ignored and the darts remained in their box as Virgil and Gordon slumped down into some comfortable chairs against the wall.

Scott flicked on the big screen TV attached to the wall but instead of searching for a basketball game he contacted Thunderbird Five and Alan's face appeared. Scott was eager to get the meeting underway.

"So who knew what John was planning?" Heads were shaking all round.

"Nope," said Virgil.

"No," added Gordon.

"What about you, Alan?" asked Scott. "Did he let anything slip when you were talking over Five stuff?"

Alan frowned. "No way, not a word. Seriously, he's left International Rescue to be a farmer? You're sure he's not winding you up?"

"He seemed pretty sure when he was cramming all his clothes into bags," replied Gordon.

The brothers fell silent for a moment as they each considered the situation. It was Scott who then spoke next.

"So what do we do now? Ideas?"

"We make him come back, of course," said Alan.

"What if he doesn't want to?" asked Gordon, looking very worried.

"Maybe we should just let him be for a bit," suggested Virgil.

"When Father asked him why he wanted to leave, he apparently didn't give a particularly in-depth answer so I'm not sure how long he's been thinking about all this," said Scott.

Gordon then spoke quietly, forcing the others to listen carefully. "I figure it's since the last rescue. I think it's my fault he's gone."

This made Scott frown. "You think he left because of your injury?"

"He left because I was an idiot," sighed Gordon. "Think about it. None of us have ever had any indication that he was unhappy being in International Rescue. Then I go and get a great big bit of metal in my leg. He was really angry with me that I pulled it straight out. I mean, it turned out he had good reason to be, but he was shouting at me. Then he had to come to the hospital with me because there weren't enough medics. It was a mess. I've tried to talk to him several times over the last month and he's always cut it short. It's my fault."

Scott immediately disagreed. "No, you can't blame yourself. We went over and over this after the rescue. Yes, medically you were a total jerk and should have known better but you were in a state of shock and a lot of pain. No one makes perfect judgements in that situation. There's no way he'd hold that against you."

"Actually, he may have a point," said Virgil. "Earlier in the rescue John saved this little kid. I was about to run her over in the Snow Loader because she was buried but he spotted her and pulled her out. He was really pleased to be in International Rescue at that point. If we're talking guilt, I feel guilty I didn't pick Gordon up in Two and get him to the hospital earlier."

Again Scott disagreed. "You and Two were halfway up a mountain three miles away rescuing 12 stranded climbers. You did as you were ordered. Twelve civilians trumps one member of International Rescue and, besides, we were able to get him to the hospital quickly enough. But you have made me remember something. When I got to the hospital I found John outside the surgical area and he wasn't in a good state. He was covered in blood, no wonder you needed a transfusion, Gordon. The blood was on his face, his hands, his uniform was soaked and he seemed to be in a bit of a state of, I dunno, shock, I guess. It took me a few minutes to get him to pull himself together and when he did…well you're not the only one that got shouted at by him that day, Gord."

"I told you, it's my fault," said Gordon. "He was so angry with me at being such an idiot that he can't bear to work alongside me again. That's why he said he'll do his rotation on Five until we find someone else but no more rescues. I need to go and talk to him, to apologise, face-to-face where he can't brush me off or cut the vid-phone connection."

Gordon rose to his feet as if, now he had made the decision, he was going to leave immediately. Virgil put out his hand to stop him.

"Hang on a minute. Let's think this through properly. Yes, he may have been angry with you, or he may have been very upset with what happened to you but we just don't know. It's not like we ever know what he's thinking. Has it occurred to anyone that he might just really want a change of lifestyle and passionately wants to become a farmer and we should just do the right thing and let him get on with it without making him feel guilty?"

This point of view provoked a strong reaction from his brothers and for a couple of minutes everyone was talking to, over and with each other, each trying to get his opinion across. Eventually Scott called a halt to it.

"Okay, stop! That's enough! This is getting us nowhere. Based on what everyone's said I propose a plan. We let John get on with his month with Grant and May. If we talk to him we just be casual and ask him how he's doing and share news from here. My guess is, however he's feeling, he'll still be interested in any rescues we do. He's then going to be up on Five and it will be business as usual. He'll then have had two months to decide where he wants to be. If after that he goes back to the farm, then, Gordon, you go and have a talk with him and make sure he's doing this farming thing for the right reasons and not just because of a crap rescue. Agreed?"

There were murmurs of assent as everyone thought it over. Then Alan piped up, his face a painting of concern and fear.

"Scott, do you think you can put Dad off from getting someone new to take John's place in the meantime?"

Scott sighed and then spoke gently to Alan, whom he now realised was suffering due to John's decision more than he had been letting on.

"Al, I can't even get Dad to talk to me about it. I think we can safely say he's in a state of denial right now and will not be making any attempts to replace John any time soon."

"Okay," replied Alan, looking more relaxed.

But inwardly Scott felt less sure. They couldn't wait for John forever. There would come a time when they would all have to accept that he wasn't coming back. Hopefully, that day wasn't as fast approaching as it looked like.


	6. Chapter 6

Virgil had said that he never knew what was going on in John's head. So how was John feeling? Well, after three weeks at May and Grant's farm he had decided he was feeling many things but the over-riding one was exhaustion.

John considered himself a pretty fit person. Both on the Island and on Thunderbird Five he exercised regularly. Despite the marvellous machines that Brains created, being a member of International Rescue could still be a physical job and everyone made an effort to stay trained up. Scott and Gordon, who had both enjoyed military careers, were forever pressing on their brothers the maxim of "Train hard, fight easy".

John had thought that his level of fitness would be ideal for farming but he hadn't realised the sheer, bloody need that farming required to be physically active day after day. He had asked Grant to treat him as a regular farm hand and Grant had taken him at his word. In International Rescue a call out could be over in a few hours or, at most, a few days and then there would sometimes be a period of several weeks before they were required again. On the farm, the routine was never-ending.

The shine had also gone off his plans to be a dairy farmer. Grant and May mostly ran an arable farm but they had a small herd of eight rare breed cows and five goats which they milked so they could produce speciality cheese in their small dairy. John had been given the responsibility for milking and found that the relentless, twice-a-day chore was not all fun and games. He had to be up with the lark and sometimes found that facing an, albeit small, herd of impatient cows before breakfast could be a bit of a trial.

Of course, on his own farm he was intending to go down the robotic milking route where the cows took themselves off to be milked by the machines as and when they needed it but John had swiftly realised that the milking parlour would need regular checking and cleaning and the only way to spot problems or illness in the herd would be to walk amongst them.

Not that John meant to run his farm single-handed. His intention was to have an efficient staff to supervise but Grant had quickly shot down that theory. He had told John that one of the hardest parts of his job was people management. Grant himself had been brought up on a farm and it was an established career in his extended family. However, he pointed out that he and his wife were in the minority. Most of the local farming children had taken the first opportunity they could to leave home and travel away from the area to college or office based jobs in the city. Grant had been left to pick his farm hands often from unskilled local youngsters who did not necessarily have the work ethic required and could be unreliable and as hard to handle as the goats.

Paperwork was also another nightmare to deal with. John had imagined himself working in the farm office in the morning and getting his hands dirty in the afternoon but he had begun to see the reality that, with a large outfit, especially one including livestock, he would be spending a lot of time filling in forms and dealing with suppliers.

John, however, tried not to be too hard on himself. It was only his first few weeks putting theory into practice and the whole point of living with May and Grant was to get an idea of what worked and what didn't, to make it easier when he set up on his own. It was a steep learning curve but he embraced the challenge. Spending time as part of the family was also enjoyable and playing with Matty, Pete and Sam had taken him back to his own childhood and rough housing with his brothers. He was also glad to be of help to the now heavily pregnant May.

He couldn't forget his other life, though, either. Much as he tried to push thoughts of IR to one side, he couldn't help but wonder how things were going back at base and he had contacted Scott after the last rescue, ostensibly to check that everyone was okay, but also to get a rundown of what had happened at the danger zone. Scott had been more than happy to supply the details and they had chatted for over an hour. This had led John to be late for evening milking and both the goats and cows let him know of their displeasure and discomfort, hence the goat hoof imprint on his right calf.

John's initial foray into farming had certainly given him lows as well as highs but he wouldn't give in. He had been brought up to believe that hard work and application could solve most problems and he was not scared of putting in the effort. Soon his old life would be a distant memory. Wouldn't it?

TBTBTBTBTBTB

John's life continued as planned. He finished the month on the farm and then went back to Thunderbird Five. The contrast was great and John made sure he kept up with his workout routine.

He was faintly surprised and almost disappointed not to have had his brothers and father begging him to give up his new career plans but at least it made life simpler. He did find himself spending a lot of time talking with Alan about various Five related things and pretended not to notice the pained look that crossed Alan's face whenever he mentioned his own return to the farm.

He soon slipped back into the routine with Grant and May and four days after arriving he found himself in a barn, shifting hay from a pile of bales in one corner into a trailer attached to a small tractor. He could have set up a machine to do the task but it was in another barn and it seemed quicker to do the task by hand than go and fetch it.

He was mulling over equipment logistics and getting hotter and hotter when a drawling voice came from behind him.

"Well, howdy there, Farmer John."

John turned around to see Gordon leaning against the barn door, chewing on a hay stalk, an amused look on his face. John gave a sigh of exasperation and put his hands on his hips.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Can't a person on vacation go and visit his brother?"

John looked sceptical at this. "When the brother is not, as I remember, due any vacation for at least another month then I'd say no."

"Oh, okay." Gordon was not down hearted by this cool reception and tried again. "Can't a person take his brother out for a beer after a hard day's work?"

"You know as well as I do that the nearest bar is a 25 minute drive away from the other side of the farm so, again, no. What are you doing here, Gordon?"

Gordon sighed and took the hay out of his mouth, tossing it away. There was an easy and a hard way to do this and John was clearly going to choose the hard way. He considered the question.

"Seriously? I was missing you. Won't you at least have one beer with me?"

John thought about this for a moment. His head said "no", afraid of where the resulting conversation would lead, but he couldn't help but give a different answer. "Okay, one beer. But I've got to finish this first."

Gordon grinned. "Well, it will be quicker with two of us. What can I do?"

The brothers worked side by side, tossing the hay into the trailer. They didn't speak and soon the job was done. John decided that if he could only clone Gordon he would have an excellent set of farm-hands.

"Look," he said, less brusque now, "I know Grant stashes some beer in one of the dairy fridges. Hop on the trailer and we'll head over there."

Gordon didn't need asking twice. He climbed on top of the hay and held on as John started up the tractor and drove them off down the farm track. When they arrived at the dairy, Gordon helped John to pull a tarpaulin over the trailer and then waited as his brother went inside to track down the beer. Sure enough, he soon reappeared with a couple of bottles and the two brothers sat down on a log to watch the setting sun.

"You came an awfully long way just to have a drink with me," remarked John, after a minute or so.

"Totally worth it," came the reply. "Besides, you haven't let me say a thank you properly yet."

"For what? Oh right…." John shivered at the memory of the snowy rescue in Europe. "The trouble is," he continued, "your idea of a thank you usually involves the recipient being knee deep in Jello-O or something. Remember when you were about eight and you thanked Virgil for mending your bicycle by filling up his closet with cotton candy?"

"But he loved cotton candy!" protested Gordon.

"Yes, but his clothes didn't and Grandma had you on laundry duty for a week."

Gordon chuckled. "Okay, so I do like to give both a proper thank you and a fun one as well for good measure. But you haven't let me give you either and, in fact, I've had the distinct feeling you've been avoiding me since the last rescue."

"Well, if I was trying I clearly failed," replied John, shooting a grin before taking a long swig of beer.

Gordon didn't smile back but instead looked deadly serious. "Are you here because I'm an idiot and you can't bear to work with me anymore?"

John looked shocked. "What on earth do you mean?"

"I just mean, I know you were really angry with me when I pulled that metal out of my leg and I know it meant you having to waste time treating me instead of getting on with the rescue and I was just thinking that the reason you suddenly wanted to be a farmer was because I'd pissed you off so much."

John shook his head in disbelief. "That's ridiculous! Okay, it wasn't the soundest medical judgment that you've ever made but it was a difficult set of circumstances and you were in pain so I can hardly blame you. Gordon, I'd rather work side by side with you than just about anybody else on this planet."

The two sat in silence for a moment before Gordon spoke.

"Then why did you leave?"


	7. Chapter 7

At Gordon's question, John stared into the distance for a moment. He then looked at his nearly empty beer bottle and countered the question with another.

"Is this going to be a two beer conversation?"

"Yes. Yes it is," replied Gordon and John went and fetched a couple more beers. When he sat back down Gordon decided to press his advantage.

"Well? It's not like you've ever mentioned a burning desire to work on a farm. That's why I thought it must be because of the last rescue."

"Does is matter why I'm here?" asked John.

"It does to me."

"Okay, well, obviously an outdoor life is very attractive."

Gordon interrupted straight away. "To Grant and May, perhaps, but to a person who's spent most of his life in a library or in space, I don't buy that."

"I have not spent most of my…." John started to disagree but then conceded the point. "Well, okay, maybe so far I've been more indoors than out but outside isn't so bad."

Gordon also had to concede a point. "I admit, sitting here looking at this view, I can see why it appeals. I always forget how beautiful this part of Kansas is until I come back."

"You know, farming is a fascinating business and it's much harder to turn a profit than it was. It's definitely a challenge."

"And being in International Rescue isn't?"

John sighed. It was hard to pull the wool over Gordon's eyes. For someone who played the fool a lot he was also astute, keen-eyed and rarely missed a trick. John felt he could spend all evening verbally sparing with him and Gordon still wouldn't be happy until he believed John's replies. It might be simpler to cut to the chase.

"Do you want the truth?" he challenged Gordon.

"Always."

"The truth is I'm not sure I really know why I'm here but I'm pretty certain you're right and that it has something to do with the last rescue. But I'm not blaming you, I'm blaming me. I realised I'm not as suited to being in a rescue organisation as I thought."

"Okay, now you're the one being ridiculous," countered Gordon. "What gave you that idea?"

"Because…." John hung his head and spoke to his knees." Because…of the fear. I was so scared and I've never felt like that before on a rescue and, to be honest, I'm a little ashamed."

"Ashamed of being scared? But I'm scared all the time on rescues and I'm not ashamed."

John looked up in surprise. "You? Seriously? Gordon 'I've been W.A.S.P. and got an Olympic gold' Tracy?"

Gordon chuckled and was as self-deprecating as usual. "Yeah, I'm a real hero. Johnny, it's a stupidly dangerous job we do and if you're not a little bit scared then you're mad."

"Well, of course I get the adrenaline rush but normally it's controllable. When you were bleeding all over the place and the only person to treat you was me – that was frightening. There was blood everywhere – your blood! I've never been so terrified in my whole life."

"I'll take that as a compliment but I'm sorry I put you though it."

"It wasn't your fault but it did make me re-evaluate my usefulness as a member of the team. So I thought I'd look around for other options and….well….here I am."

"Look, we all get moments on a rescue when the seriousness of a situation gives us a moment of panic but usually we power through it and use our training to make solid decisions. What training can't teach us is how to deal with a stupid, baby brother who's bleeding out in front of our eyes."

"You said you weren't bleeding out!" replied John indignantly.

"I was trying to remain positive. Truth is, you and I did not find ourselves in the best of circumstances but you kept me sealed up and I hung on and we both got through it. Job done, live to rescue another day."

Gordon was so matter of fact and John couldn't help but give a momentary small smile. Then the memories crowded back in and he felt a touch of nausea.

"Your blood was all over the place, all over me."

"Scott did mention that you were pretty covered with it."

"It was pumping out of your leg like there was no end to it but I knew there was and I was afraid you were going to run dry, you jerk."

"But I didn't!" Gordon slapped John cheerfully on the shoulder but saw that John was still solemn and was looking down at Gordon's legs. A thought came to him. "You know my leg healed up pretty good, don't you?"

John looked surprised again. "Really? It didn't look good when I last saw it."

Gordon leapt to his feet and started to undo the button and fly on his jeans.

"Wow, hey there, bro!" exclaimed John, holding up his hands to block the view, "I like you and all that but I think we should all keep our clothes on here!"

Gordon merely tutted and pulled his jeans down to his knees. Then he sat back down next to John and pointed to his left thigh. "See? All better. The great thing about being in IR is that you always get the best treatment. They didn't get some lackey to sew me up, they called in the consultant plastic surgeon. He did a beautiful job."

John peered at the small scar. The last time he'd seen Gordon's leg in the flesh there had been a jagged wound and blood pouring out. Now it looked like he'd had a minor encounter with a cross cat.

"That's not bad at all. How does it feel? Much pain?"

"Not now. I'm still keeping up some physio in the gym and in the pool. I've got a good tan because I couldn't go in the pool for the first few days so I sat on a sun lounger instead and that makes it look a bit better. If I bump that particular spot it can be sore for a little while but I'm back on rescues and feeling great."

"I can't believe that it looks that much better. It was like an explosion in a raspberry jelly factory before."

Gordon grimaced. "Well, if you'd made an effort to stay in touch over the last couple of months I could have kept you up-to-date with how it was healing."

"Okay, kiddo, I think you've made your point about that."

Gordon all but blushed and changed the subject. "So how is it going out here, anyway? Are you enjoying the farming way of life?"

John considered his answer for a moment. "Yes, I am. I mean, it's not exactly what I expected in some ways but it's good working on the land. If you want to turn a decent profit you've got to be real careful where you put your money but it's not impossible. Though, I'm not sure how Grant and May manage it now they've got so many mouths to feed. I take it you dropped in on them on the way to me?"

"I did and, dear God, May is the size of a house. I hope it's not twins."

"They've had the scan and it's definitely just one!"

"Can't they hide behind each other during a scan?"

"Let's not tell her that," replied John, chuckling.

Gordon then switched topics again and quietly asked John the question he had been putting off. "Don't you miss anything about being in International Rescue?"

John sighed and gently shook his head. "Honestly? I miss everything about International Rescue. Most of all, I miss working with my brothers. And saving lives. And getting to use kick-ass state-of-the-art-equipment. And teaching Alan to love space. And I know I'm going to miss being in Five."

"So…..?" asked Gordon.

"So?" repeated John.

"So why don't you ditch the farming and come back? I mean, I can understand why you love it here. I expect all of us at one time or another have missed being in Kansas and the wonderful memories of growing up and Mom and all the stuff we used to get up to. But you can be a farmer when you're old and grey or at least not so keen on abseiling down landslides or putting on a haz suit and rescuing people from a nuclear reactor. Don't you want to keep doing IR for a bit longer?"

"It's not so simple. I can't just come back."

"Why not?" challenged Gordon.

"Because, well, for a start I made this big thing to Dad about how I wanted to become a farmer and I'd thought it all through and I was leaving IR. I can hardly come crawling back saying I've changed my mind. I'd look pretty stupid. And what about the guy you're training up to replace me? It would be unfair on him…or her."

"What replacement? Every now and then Scott kinda half-heartedly suggests to Dad that we ought to look for someone and Dad just ignores him and changes the subject. And about every two days Alan says something along the lines of 'Do you really think he's not coming back?' and no one answers him. The only person who's made any effort to move on is Virgil who asked Brains for the spec diagrams for Five because he wanted to make sure he was up to speed in case anything broke and he needed to mend it." Then Gordon went in with the killer blow. "Oh, and he was saying that he might think about making a few alterations."

As Gordon had anticipated, John looked horrified. "A few alterations? Virgil? Oh my God, he's going to bling up my space station, isn't he? He'll add about hundred totally unnecessary gadgets…"

"And make it about three times bigger and paint it green!" Gordon couldn't help but laugh at his brother's face.

"Thunderbird Five," spluttered John, "is a beautifully crafted, functional and perfectly formed satellite. It does not need alterations!"

"Then come back to International Rescue and make sure it doesn't happen."

The wind then left John's sails and he sagged. "But, Gordon, it would be too embarrassing to go back. Everyone would make fun of me, I'd never live it down."

"To be honest with you, I don't think you've got anything to worry about on that score. I think everyone would be so grateful, I reckon if you walked up to Dad and said that you're back he'd just say 'Okay' and give you some chore to do. I don't think anyone would risk making a fuss. I think it would be a non-event. Let's just say your picture is still on the lounge wall and no one has suggested it comes down."

"You really think it would be that easy?"

"I do."

"But what about May and Grant? I made a promise to them that I'd help out."

"True, but you were only ever here temporarily until you got your own place. It was never a long term arrangement and coming back won't stop you getting your own farm, just maybe put it back a few years. What do you say?"

"I say this is turning into a three beer conversation."

Gordon watched John heading back to the barn and wondered if he had done enough.


	8. Chapter 8

Three weeks later Jeff and Scott were in the lounge at Jeff's desk discussing various Tracy Corporation and International Rescue matters. Jeff was just expounding his theories on how the current exchange rate was affecting business when a warning beep came from his computer. He glanced at the monitor and saw on the radar that an aircraft was heading, at speed, towards the Island. He was about to investigate further when John's eyes started to flash on his portrait.

"Go ahead, John."

"Morning, Father. I'm ten minutes out. Permission to land?"

"Granted. See you soon."

As the connection was cut, Jeff raised an eyebrow at Scott. "I didn't expect him for a couple more days."

"I know. Well, it will be good to see him."

"Indeed. Now, where was I?"

The two carried on their conversation, Jeff occasionally checking the Island cameras to make sure that the runway remained clear and that John had landed safely. He saw John stow his jet in the hangar and, not long after, John came into the lounge.

"Hi, Dad, Scott."

"Good flight?" asked Scott.

"Very good. Er…Dad…do you want to put me back on the rota for rescues until I go up to Five?"

"Sure, son," Jeff replied casually. "And what about after your stint?"

"Um…well…then too if you're okay to have me back?"

Scott was equally relaxed in his reply. "Good to have you on board. In fact, Brains has got some ideas about Three and Five's docking protocol that he's been discussing with Alan. Maybe you could chip in there?"

"Sure, I'll talk to him when I've unpacked." John turned on his heel and the left the room. Jeff and Scott turned to look at one another.

"Looks like Gordon was right," Scott remarked.

"And did we play our part as he instructed?"

"Gordon will be very proud of us."

"You boys, why you have to make my life so complicated I really do not know."

"Keeps you on your toes, Dad!"

"Hmmm…."

But Scott could tell that his father was trying to hide a smile.

TBTBTBTB

The following evening John and Scott were in the lounge playing chess before dinner when Gordon came up to them and placed a drink down beside John.

"For you!"

John looked suspiciously at the drink. "Thank you, I think. What is it?"

"Cranberry and vodka. Tin Tin swears by it."

"A girl's drink. Okay. It's very red."

Gordon grinned with delight. "I am so glad you spotted that!"

John's eyes narrowed as he looked at his younger brother. "Oh no, what are you up to?"

"Your thank you dinner! Remember I promised you a wonderful meal to say thank you? We're having it tonight. Come on!"

Gordon pulled John to his feet and John looked despairingly back at Scott. Scott was apologetic. "I tried to stop him but you know what he's like."

John followed Gordon reluctantly down to the kitchen where the food was laid out.

"I wanted a theme," stated Gordon, "and since you have earned my gratitude because you stopped all my blood leaking out I thought the theme should be…ta dah!"

"Oh my God, red," completed John, suddenly going very pale.

"Yes!" exclaimed Gordon, happily. "To start with is tomato soup. Then there will be rare steak accompanied by roasted red peppers, roasted beetroot and baked red potatoes. Of course, there will be red wine with that course. Then, to finish, red velvet cake with a strawberry coulis. I couldn't make the coffee red but, don't worry, it comes with a shot on the side of cherry brandy. What do you think?"

John, however grateful he was for his brother's show of thanks, could not deal with the amount of red before him. "I think….I think I'm going to be sick."

He exited the kitchen at speed, hand clamped over his mouth, almost colliding with Scott who couldn't help but laugh at the crestfallen look on Gordon's face.


End file.
